


Magic in Mundanity

by strength-and-flexibility (fairytale_bliss)



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 06:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20385550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytale_bliss/pseuds/strength-and-flexibility
Summary: So when Winston tells them that some more media positivity would be great for the cause, Bob rubs his hands together in glee and Helen’s smile is more like a grimace.





	Magic in Mundanity

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It's been a while, but I am still working on some Bob/Helen fics. Dunno when the next one will be, but here's this one.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Incredibles.

_Magic in Mundanity_

Capitalise, capitalise, capitalise, Winston is fond of saying. Always the businessman, every single moment is an opportunity for publicity, for good PR, for further appealing to the masses. He’s good at what he does; DevTech has flourished under his control. Evelyn was a fantastic designer, there’s no denying that, no matter what Helen might feel about her now, but it’s Winston’s enthusiasm and savviness that catapulted the company to the top.

Of course, Win’s hunger for advertising inevitably spills out into other areas too. Hailed a hero—or denounced a villain—for his clever efforts to kick-start the re-legalisation of Supers, he is still closely linked with them all, new and old alike, DevTech acting as the official sponsor. If any Super needs something, all they have to do is ask, and Win will throw the funds at them, no questions asked. It’s a risky gambit, Helen supposes, for one wrong move by any of them would bring the whole thing crashing down, but Win enjoys risks.

Of course, Win’s dedication to the cause also means that Supers are indebted to him, and if he wants something in return, they are obliged to accommodate him where they can.

Not that he asks for anything nefarious or difficult. Capitalise, capitalise, capitalise, he says, and that means building up a good relationship with the press.

So that’s what they all do. After every act of heroism, the press are there, clamouring for facts, fighting over scraps, forever demanding. And Helen has to force a grin and go along with it all.

Even in the glory days she’d hated the staged gaudiness. The NSA had expected it of her at times and so she’d done her duty, but her disdain for the job had never abated. It was a waste of time, in her eyes, meant for people who only wanted to showboat. Helen was no such Super. Sure, she enjoyed the lavish praise heaped on her—all Supers had an ego that liked to be stroked—but she hadn’t needed the false show of standing centre stage re-enacting a blow-by-blow account of every escapade for the ravenous consumer.

It had never helped that she’d mostly been seen as a commodity, either. Helen had been under no illusions about what her worth in the public eye was. There were young girls and women out there who saw her as an idol, and so she strived to attain perfection, to be the role model they deserved. Men’s admiration, however, had come from a place of lust and nothing more. They’d seen the skin-tight suit, the curves, and had gone wild in their imaginings about what it would be like to spend a night with Elastigirl. Her worth as a hero was moot in their eyes. She was a woman and therefore only useful in the capacity of her sex. The media questions had bored her senseless. They hadn’t wanted to know about her actions, they’d wanted to know if she had enough time to fit a date in, or if she had a boyfriend who didn’t mind having an atypical girlfriend, or which Super currently held her fancy, as if she couldn’t function without a ‘other half’. It was why she’d always been so fiercely protective of her private life. She’d never stayed long enough in any relationship to catch deeper feelings, and had been purposefully blasé about spending too much time with someone. She’d had her heart broken once before, before she’d shot to fame, and had vowed that she would never get herself tangled up in a situation where that might happen again.

Bob, of course, had had an entirely different experience. Whilst some of the women had certainly objectified him—back in the day, Helen had heard enough gushing about his strong, masculine jawline, his charming smile, his pretty blue eyes, _those to-die-for muscles_—it was still a man’s world, and the men’s views had bigger clout than anything else. Mr. Incredible had been the peak image of masculinity. Everyone had wanted to be him, and they had revered him as almost a god. Bob’s ego had certainly enjoyed that, and he’d played up to the image perfectly. It was another reason why Helen had had such an intense dislike of him at first.

It also meant that he had the better media presentation. Journalists had clamoured to know about every punch, every deflected bullet, every perilous near-miss. Not one of them had shown an interest in Mr. Incredible’s civilian life.

So when Winston tells them that some more media positivity would be great for the cause, Bob rubs his hands together in glee and Helen’s smile is more like a grimace.

The one thing she’s managed to negotiate is the kids’ exclusion. Jack-Jack has no place there, and both Violet and Dash are far too young to be exposed to such a frenzied circus. They deserve the chance to be away from all of that, to grow without scrutiny, to be normal children even if they aren’t. There’s plenty of time for media exposure, when they’re older and have had training in dealing with the difficult questions. Helen can tell that Dash is disappointed with this—another way he is so very like his father—but Violet is obviously relieved. She just wants the chance to be with her friends and to spend time with that lovely boyfriend of hers, Tony, keeping her enthusiasm for helping out those in need entirely separate for the time being. Helen knows that she already feels conflicted about having to lie to them, and being thrust under a microscope would not help her.

Today, the Underminer had returned to wreak more havoc, obviously thinking that the previous chaotic, disastrous attempt to stop him would work in his favour again. More fool him. Evidently spending most of his time skulking beneath the surface of the earth did not enable him to keep abreast of the news, and he’d clearly missed the memo about superhero legalisation.

Better prepared, confident that even though they didn’t have the full backing of everyone the suit cams would at least provide them with coverage, they’d worked together to stop him in his tracks. In combination, they were a force to be reckoned with, and Helen loved working with her whole family to stop the criminals in their tracks. If anything, despite never losing the underlying, gnawing anxiety that she was putting them in harm’s way, there was nothing better than the family dynamic, and she knew in theory that it was better to have them there, where she and Bob could keep a watchful eye on them and keep them safe. Vi and Dash would learn so much from fighting alongside them, too. It made sense.

She still had qualms about bringing Jack-Jack along—he was just a baby for God’s sake—but he had proven to be a resilient little thing. And with his seemingly limitless powers, he was a force to be reckoned with. Even now Helen was being surprised by new powers that she hadn’t even considered a possibility; Bob simply sighed and grinned a tired sort of grin which let her know that it was nothing he hadn’t already had experience in. She had a newfound respect for how well he had handled things whilst she’d been away advocating for superhero legalisation, and she can confess to being a little jealous, too, that Jack-Jack’s powers had manifested themselves when she hadn’t been around. She’d been there for both Violet and Dash’s first powers, and now she feels a keen pang of loss that she missed out on darling little Jack-Jack’s. He’s more of a handful than Vi and Dash ever were, which is ironic considering he exhibited no sign of powers for the first year of his life.

Vi’s got him now; Helen can see him wriggling in his sister’s arms just in the corner of her vision, evidently straining to get to her. She wants to stretch out her arms and cradle him there, appease him. But she knows it wouldn’t look professional to do so, so she forces herself to focus on the crowd that’s gathered outside City Hall. Journalists make up the first wave of people, thrusting microphones forward, jostling for prime position. Behind them are the civilians, clustered at the barriers, whooping and clapping and craning their necks for a better ogle. It’s heartening, to see so much support. Things aren’t completely smooth-running, and might well never be, but at least having the support from the younger generations is something. In time, Helen hopes that they can be great advocates for Supers everywhere, eliminating the hatred and fear that dogs them.

At that moment, Winston steps forward and takes the first podium. Instantly, a hush sweeps through the congregation as he clears his throat. Whatever people might think of him, he’s fantastic at this, charismatic and charming and congenial, with the million-watt smile and the smooth salesman technique that makes him almost as hypnotising as his sister’s technology.

“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for taking the time out to be here today,” he begins. “I think we can all agree that it’s appalling to see our city come under attack from anyone. The destruction caused is like a physical blow, and I’m sure that some of you are personally and painfully familiar with how it feels to watch your property get destroyed when there’s nothing you can do to prevent it.”

There are a few murmurs of agreement.

“We are very fortunate in the fact that we have heroes amongst us who strive to make the world a better place. We are privileged that their only motivation is to help us, where they expect no recompense in return. We are lucky that we now live in a society where we can live peacefully alongside each other and lend each other a helping hand. Having one does not lessen the worth of the other. We should celebrate that.”

More applause. Helen shifts awkwardly on her podium. Bob, by contrast, looks like an eager little boy, waiting for his big moment in the spotlight. With the late afternoon sunlight streaming down on him, saturating everything gold, she can almost believe that they’ve stepped twenty years into the past. They’ve already done the photoshoot, however, which is sure to be a contrast to the past—if they had ever posed together then it had been stiff and formal, with fake smiles on both of their faces. This time, Bob had wrapped his arm around her waist and she had stretched hers around his broad shoulders, and the smiles, despite her hatred of this kind of thing, had been real.

“So, without further ado, I present to you two of the heroes of the hour, two Supers who you know and love, whose reputations precede them...Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl!”

The crowd roars its approval, and the cameras begin flashing immediately; Helen narrows her eyes against it. The reporters clamour forward now, thrusting their microphones. There are a few moments of chaotic pushing and shouting as everyone tries to be heard above everyone else, but Winston is ever the smooth operator, holding out his hands like a benevolent ruler.

“Please!” he shouts. “You have no need to worry! You’ll all get your chance to ask whatever you like! Now, who would like to go first?”

More shouting and waving; Winston jabs his finger at a youngish woman in the forefront. At once, grudgingly, everyone falls silent.

“Linda Greigson, MCTV,” she says, pushing her thick, dark hair out of her face. Helen braces herself for what is to come. Bob bounces beside her, coiled like a spring. What’s going to be up first? A glib question about how difficult the fight had been?”

“This question is for Mr. Incredible—”

—But of course. Helen leans over her podium, resisting the urge to prop her chin up with her fist—just barely. That would give entirely the wrong impression, and they needed to maintain a professionalism if they are to continue working on endearing themselves to the general public. This isn’t her preferred domain—actions speak louder than words, after all—but it would be quite nice to be recognised in her own right. Evelyn had been on the mark about one thing: it had been nice, being out front. She’d disagreed with the notion that she’d always been in Mr. Incredible’s shadow—they were two different people, and Bob had been the first male Super to respect her as an equal, behind all the arrogance and bravado, something that any passing observer wouldn’t appreciate—but it _had _been good to feel wanted. And even though she had not been disillusioned—she’d still been a commodity even then, as the face of the relaunch, used for one specific purpose—being the only active Super meant that they had to sit up and admit that she’d done a bloody good job. She does not resent Bob his time to shine, but they are a team now, and it would be nice to be treated as such. There’s no wonder that the Thrilling Three and Phantasmics failed so spectacularly. There’s nothing as fragile as a superhero’s ego.

“—Over the last few weeks, we’ve seen you out and about with Elastigirl and three children. You’re all sporting the same outfit. Can you confirm the rumours that you and Elastigirl are now married?”

Excited murmurs ripple through the crowd.

Well, that’s unexpected. Whatever inane question that Helen had been expecting first, it certainly hadn’t been _that_.

Bob is clearly equally stunned. Blinking a few times, he says, “Excuse me?”

Linda Griegson huffs impatiently. “There are reports that you and Elastigirl are married. Are you able to comment on these allegations?”

Allegations. What, are they on trial or something? Helen resists the urge to roll her eyes.

Bob’s still gaping, a fish out of water. “You want to know if Elastigirl and I are _married_?” The inference is clear: he can’t understand why anyone would be interested in such a mundane detail when they could be hearing about the majestic triumph they’d had over the Underminer.

“Yes,” says Linda Griegson, no trace of irony. “Is it true?”

Bob casts Helen a sidelong look. “Well, yeah—”

Cheers and screams drown out whatever else he might have said, reaching a crescendo that makes Helen jump. She exchanges a bewildered look with her husband. Okay, yeah, _that _reaction is a little strange.

“You and Elastigirl are married?” Linda Griegson clarifies.

“Yeah,” says Bob, slightly exasperated.

“So the children you’ve been seen with, are they yours, or are they children you’re training?”

“They’re our kids,” says Bob. “But what—”

He’s drowned out once more by more hysterical screams. Helen resists the urge to clap her hands over her ears. Wow. Okay. This is getting weirder by the second.

The reporters jostle forward, elbowing each other and shouting; Helen has no idea what any of them are saying.

“Please, everyone, let’s proceed in an orderly fashion!” Winston yells; he looks as shell-shocked as everyone else. Clearly he was expecting everyone to be clamouring over the action with the same boyish fervour that he always displays.

It takes several minutes for calm to preside once again. Even when it does, Helen can still hear the low buzz of enquiry, like the thrum of a bee’s wings on a sunny day. Every single set of eyes is trained on them; it’s as if they’re under the microscope, being scrutinised like science projects. It’s a dormant fear every Super seems to have, and she hates the feeling of it.

“Ron Sanders, METV,” a middle-aged man pipes up now. “Elastigirl, before Supers went underground, you were quite prominent in the public eye for being a heartbreaker. What made you settle on Mr. Incredible when you rejected so many other superheroes?”

Oh, jeez. Helen bites her tongue to repress the scathing retort that wants to escape. What business is it of the media’s? That was one of the things she’d always hated most about living her life in the spotlight. It meant that every single action, every single person she interacted with, was scrutinised and debated as if it was country-defining policy. There had been no scope to have fun, to do what she liked. It was part of the reason why she had been so intensely territorial with her civilian life. She was leading a double life anyway, and Helen Truax was the one person she deserved total control over. Helen Truax did not want to be bogged down with a nice, normal boyfriend who would have to be lied to constantly; Helen Truax did not want some egotistical superhero as a partner, never out of her life. She’d wanted to keep her public and private lives completely compartmentalised. Elastigirl had all the fun and the fleeting flings that kept her just satisfied enough. Helen Truax was allowed to see and do some of the things that ordinary people took for granted.

Not only that, she’d rather her kids _not _know that she’d enjoyed playing the field as a younger woman. No child wanted to think of their parents like that, and no parent wanted to look at their kids and _know _they had that knowledge. It had been bad enough telling them that she was pregnant with Jack-Jack.

She caught Win’s eye. He raised his eyebrows at her. The message was clear: capitalise.

Bob is staring at her too. Gone is the mild irritation. Now he’s eyeing her with curiosity. She’s very much aware that he’s as interested in the answer as the gathering. She’s never been one for grandiose, sweeping gestures. The fact of the matter is that she loves Bob, and that’s the beginning and end of it. Superheroes have big enough egos without them being inflated any more, and Bob is certainly liable to fall victim to this. After all, it was his ego that was responsible for the ordeal with Syndrome.

Every face is turned expectantly towards her. Time to take the plunge. She takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t just ‘settle’ for Mr. Incredible,” she says. “I’m not the type of gal who would settle for just anyone just to have a partner. I think it’s important to encourage people to be independent and true to themselves where they can be.”

Cheers of agreement. It bolsters her.

“But I suppose the long and short of it is he can be quite charming when he wants to be.” She shoots him a wry smile. “I might be a superhero, but I’m still human. I like flowers and chocolates and to be treated like a woman.”

Wolf whistles this time. Bob smirks.

“In all honesty, Mr. Incredible was the first person to make me feel like more than Elastigirl. I did have a life outside of hero work before, but he took an interest in it. I liked that.” She won’t mention that he was the first person interested in more than just her body, that he actually _engaged _with her. That would be more than his ego could handle.

“And when did you get together?” someone shouts.

“Who asked who out?”

“Where did you have your first date?”

The questions come thick and fast, overlapping each other in an eager rush.

“One at a time!” Winston shouts, delighted; Helen can see the inner superhero fan emerging once more, as excited to hear about these unknown details as everyone else.

“We were together for about a year before superheroes went underground,” says Bob, with a quick glance of confirmation her way. “Elastigirl asked _me _out.”

Helen’s mouth tumbles open. The cheek of it!

Okay, she can grudgingly hold her hands up to say that, yeah, she cracked first and kissed him. She could hardly be blamed for that. It was just one of those things. They’d been arguing up a storm for weeks—_flirting _up a storm for weeks, Lucius constantly reminded them—and it had got to the point where something had to give.

But she had _not _asked him out!

* * *

_They’d met by chance on another night of crime fighting, when Bob had slipped in before her in the chase to apprehend a petty criminal; he’d emerged from round the corner just as she had been preparing to stretch out and grab the perpetrator’s shirt. Instead, the man had run into Bob’s giant frame, bounced off him, and fallen flat on his ass. Quick as a flash, Bob had yanked him off the floor and held him up by the scruff of the neck like a naughty puppy, and had claimed all the accolades. She’d fumed silently in the background, a piece of the scenery despite how hard she’d worked to chase after him._

_When the usual crowd of adoring fans had dispersed, she marched up to him, unable to mask her irritation. Even now, she remembers the scene as clear as day; the sun an angry red, splashing the sky with its dying rays, bleeding into Bob’s pale cheeks and making them look rosy. Gallingly attractive. He shot her that smirk, the one that made her want to smack him or kiss him, leaning casually against the wall as if he didn’t have a care in the world._

_“Nice way to end the evening,” he said cheerfully._

_She was in no mood for his nonchalance; she folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head back so she could scowl at him. For the first time, she realised just how tall he was, towering above her, not a trifling feat considering that she wasn’t small herself. She jabbed her finger at his chest. She doubted he would feel it—bullets bounced off him, for God’s sake!—but it felt good to do it._

_“That was mine!” she said._

_“What?”_

_“The guy! He was my mark!” She realised how childish she sounded. It was ridiculous. But by the same token, she was getting tired of it. Every female Super had to do twice the work of a man without half of the recognition, and it did not make it any easier when the men waltzed in at the last moment and took all the glory for themselves. Okay, she didn’t think Mr. Incredible had done it deliberately—he wasn’t as bad as some of the Supers who enjoyed hogging the limelight, like Gamma Jack or The Phylange—but he was there and he was an easy target **because** he was there, and had a legion of screaming female fans, **and was so damn attractive**—_

_Bob blinked at her. “What?”_

_“You deaf or something? You finished off the job I started!”_

_“Wow, sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you so much.”_

_“It doesn’t **bother** me. I just don’t appreciate doing all the work and getting none of the credit! I’m a good Super!”_

_“Hey, come on, I’ve never said you’re not!”_

_Which was true. It still didn’t help her temper. “Yeah, well, it’s annoying,” she said grumpily._

_“**You’ve** done it to me before,” he pointed out._

_Helen felt the dark crimson of embarrassment flush up her neck and into her cheeks. Worst of all, she knew that it wasn’t something she could deny. In a weird sort of way it had become almost a game to them, the both of them pitting their wits against each other to come out victorious. She could not refute that she had snuck in there and beat him to the punch before, but most of the time **he** gained the upper hand, and she was tired of it._

_“That’s different,” she grumbled._

_“How is that different?” he protested. “You can’t talk about equality and then go and do the very thing you’re complaining about.”_

_He was treading on very thin ice now. “I’m **not** a hypocrite!”_

_“So don’t get angry if I manage to finish a job off!”_

_That did it. She planted her hands on her hips and fixed him with the most withering look she could conjure. “You’re not better than me.”_

_“I don’t recall saying those words,” he shot back._

_“You’re implying it!”_

_“I can’t help having the natural superhero knack!”_

_“Oh, the nation’s favourite, Mr. Incredible!” she sneered, perhaps a little cruel in her mimicking of the simple girls who swooned over him. “Idolised because you’re strong and handsome!”_

_Bob’s cheeks went pinker. “Are you jealous or something?”_

_“Why would I be jealous!?”_

_“You’re the one making a big deal out of this. I thought we had a friendly rivalry, no hard feelings. Maybe you’re not as flexible as you like to suggest.”_

_Her mouth tumbled open. “Are you serious!?”_

_“You’re the one who thinks that people like me just because I’m strong and handsome!”_

_“Does that hurt your ego?” she snapped, taking the bait because at least it meant she didn’t have to focus on the hot prickle of shame she felt at his accusations. “Come back to me when you’ve lived through the hell that I and every other female Super has! Most of the time we don’t even get the respect we deserve from you guys, so we’ve no hope from anyone else!”_

_“I don’t think I’ve ever treated you with anything but respect!” Bob shouted at her. “Just because I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen it doesn’t mean that I automatically diminish what I think you’re capable of! I’ve seen you in action! I know what you can do! I’ve never patronised you for that!”_

_Helen froze. She’d gone numb all over, as if she’d been hit by one of Frozone’s signature ice moves._

_Oh, God._

_“What did you just say?” she whispered._

_He scowled at her. “I said that I respected you. If you wanna dispute it, fine, but I’m insulted by that.”_

_She huffed. “Not that, you idiot. The other thing.”_

_“The other thing...?” Bob’s brow creased, and she saw the moment that everything clicked into place as he realised his Freudian slip. Colour rose to his cheeks, and he turned away from her. “Look, don’t take offence to it. It was supposed to be a compliment.”_

_“Why would you think I **wouldn’t** take it as a compliment?” she demanded._

_“Oh, come on, I know you pretty well, and I know you’re not going to take a comment about your personal appearance as something to be celebrated and flattered by. You want to be measured by your contribution to the hero cause.”_

_The assessment, whilst fair, stung more than she wanted to admit. She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sorry, but why the hell would you think that any woman wouldn’t want to be complimented on her personal appearance?” Especially if that compliment consisted of being called the most gorgeous woman Mr. Incredible had ever seen..._

_“You gave Gamma Jack a mean right hook when he said you looked beautiful.”_

_“I take it he told you that?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Gamma Jack is a slimy ass. I don’t care if you like him, it doesn’t change the facts.” Dating him, however briefly, had been one of the stupidest decisions she’d ever made. “Let me make one thing clear: Gamma Jack was always gonna tell you that to make himself look better. He does like to make himself charming.” Charming was the very last thing he was, especially when people scratched beneath the surface. “If you must know, I slapped him because he made some degrading comments about me. He’s still bitter that I broke things off with him.”_

_Bob blinked. “Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, I can see why you punched him. I’m not gonna defend him. He can be a bit of a prick sometimes. I like the guy, but I’ll admit that sometimes I’d quite like to punch him too.”_

_That surprised her. Men were usually quick to close ranks, to defend each other to the death. Here was Mr. Incredible, of all people, condoning her punching another Super in the face. She relaxed her stance just slightly, tilting her head and giving him a faint twist of the lips. “So you think I’m gorgeous, huh?”_

_Bob rolled his eyes, though the colour of his cheeks belied his nonchalance. “It’s hardly a statement of opinion, is it? Every Super thinks you’re gorgeous. It’s just one of those things. You don’t need to milk it, sweetheart.”_

_“And now you’re being a patronising jerk.”_

_“I guess it beats boneheaded. Which is how you see me.”_

_Now it was Helen’s turn to go on the defensive. “You can’t be serious!”_

_He shrugged those massive shoulders, leaning back against the wall. “There’s no use denying it. Despite what you think, I’m not an idiot. I’m pretty good at reading people, actually. And you think I’m stupid.”_

_“I do not!”_

_“Are you really gonna carry on with that charade? Of course you do. I’m Mr. Incredible, remember? All brawn, no brains. A pretty face, lots of muscle, nothing between the ears. You think I’m too stupid to know what people say about me behind my back? Yeah, well, I’m not as dumb as I look.”_

_The words stung more than she could articulate, because in fits of temper and jealousy, she **had** thought that. She’d seen how likeable he was to most people, the admiring looks he’d garnered, the fame that followed him wherever he went, and it had made her **seethe**._

_Had made her take it out on him unfairly._

_“Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you thought,” she said. “Maybe you’re seeing what you want to see.”_

_“Great, so you’re turning this back on me?” Bob threw his hands up in the air. “You know what, I’m done for tonight. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon, Elastigirl. I’ll try not to steal your thunder.”_

_“You’re unbelievable,” she stated hotly as he began to trudge away._

_He paused, then whipped back around. “**I’m** unbelievable? Are you serious?”_

_“Deadly. Has it never crossed your mind that I don’t have the same opinion as everyone else? That I’m not small-minded? That I can change my opinion about people?”_

_“What—?”_

_She stalked forward, jabbing him in the chest again. You want me to say it? Fine, I will. When I first met you I thought you were an egotistical jerk, only interested in the glory. I was wrong, okay? Wrong. I can see that you give a damn about the people you save. I can see that you just want to make the world safer for everyone else. I can see why you have so many fans.”_

_“Yeah, fans who only care about the fact that I’m good-looking, apparently—”_

_“Will you shut up?” she said fiercely. “Those people aren’t important. They’re the same people who think I’m interesting because they wanna know how my flexibility affects my performance in the bedroom.”_

_Bob’s face flamed hotter than the setting sun. She wasn’t an idiot. He’d probably thought about it too. Strangely, though, the thought didn’t fill her with disgust, as it did with some of the others. In fact, it made her feel...warm, too, thinking about how he might touch her with those big hands._

_God, she needed to pull herself together._

_“Who cares about what other people might think?” she continued fiercely. “You’ve got to be big and ugly enough to deal with it. And you obviously aren’t as good at reading people as you think.”_

_“Oh, yeah?” he said roughly. “Why’s that, then?”_

_“Because if you **were** any good at reading people, you’d know that I happen to admire you a great deal.”_

_He snorted. “Yeah, good one. You, admire **me**? Half of the time you can’t even stand the sight of me.”_

_“That’s not true!”_

_“Oh, yeah?”_

_“Yeah!” Helen’s blood was boiling now. “You think I’d do **this** if I couldn’t stand the sight of you?”_

_And without giving herself time to think, without giving him time to react, she closed the distance between them, shoved him back against the building so hard that it actually **shook**, and kissed him with all the anger, the frustration, the **desire** that had been building up within her for too damn long. He started a little, evidently caught completely by surprise, but after a few seconds of complete motionless it was as if he cracked, his arms moving down to her waist and pulling her roughly to him, his mouth slanting against hers as he kissed her back with equal fervour. Blood pounded through Helen’s head, her whole body almost on fire with her need, and she flattened her body against his, desperate to feel as much of him as she possibly could._

_It was only when he made a breathless sound in the back of her throat that she pulled away, suddenly acutely aware of just how good his body felt against her own. For a moment, she was almost scared to look at him. That was impulsivity that went beyond anything she’d ever done before. She was chased. She didn’t do the chasing._

_And yet she’d kissed Mr. Incredible._

_From the dazed look on his face, he was as stunned by this turn of events as she was. His fingers hovered above his lips as if he was resisting the temptation to touch them._

_“So, uh, we’re kissing now?” he said._

_Helen’s first line of defence after an unexpected slip up was sarcasm, and her tongue struck again now. “Not anymore, apparently.”_

_Bob only blinked at her. “I don’t understand.”_

_Helen rolled her eyes. “I’m starting to get the feeling that that isn’t anything new.”_

_If possible, his face went an even deeper shade of crimson. It was oddly endearing, really, that Mr. Incredible, strong, tough, arrogant, could be reduced to a shy, fumbling boy at the mere mention of kissing._

_“I just—you—me—you **kissed** me!”_

_“Yes, I know.”_

_“But...why?”_

_Well, I don’t know about you, but my experience with kissing usually gives me a clear indication that someone is interested in me.” She huffed. “Amazing as it may seem, Incredible, you’re not all bad.”_

_“Is that supposed to be a compliment? I’ve had better.”_

_She smirked. “From your legion of adoring female fans?”_

_“Very funny.” Bob ran his hand through his hair, then confessed, “I’m not sure what to do right now.”_

_“Oh, charming.” Helen had tried to make it a joke, but she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She did not want rejection. Rejection wasn’t her thing; she **did** the rejecting. And she certainly wasn’t sure how she’d feel if Mr. Incredible rejected her. They’d spent so many weeks with this weird energy between them; now that she’d kissed him, it seemed like the most natural way in the world to express all the things he made her feel. Yeah, there was frustration and irritation, but sizzling beneath all of that was a now undeniable attraction to him. Much as she was loath to admit, she could see exactly why so many women swooned at the mere sight of him, with that dazzling smile and that—God—**amazing** body._

_Damn Frozone, too, for planting those seeds in the first place._

_“God, I don’t know what to do,” said Bob._

_“Well, there are two choices here, Incredible. We can walk away now and pretend that this never happened.” And if that **did** happen, then she hoped to God he had enough decency to keep it to himself, because the last thing she needed was for the other male Supers to leer and jeer and sneer at her. It was one of the reasons why she refused to get in too deep with any Super, why she was always careful to do the heart breaking herself._

_“And the other?” he asked hoarsely._

_She shrugged. “You see where this takes you.”_

_He stared at her for a long moment. “On one condition.”_

_Condition. How Helen hated that term. She didn’t do conditions. She did things her way. She was not a delicate butterfly with clipped wings, unable to spread them and reach her full potential. She would not let anyone else do that to her. She’d screwed up with Xerek, had let him have control that she would never dream of giving up again._

_“I don’t do terms,” she tried now, folding her arms and stretching to her full height—not that it made any difference, when Mr. Incredible towered above her as he did, almost a foot bigger than she was._

_“And I like to know where I stand. Seems like we’re at an impasse, Elastigirl.”_

_She glowered at him for a moment, then gritted her teeth. “**Fine**. What’s your condition? And just because I’m asking, it doesn’t mean I’m gonna agree to it.”_

_He shot her an easy grin, the kind that made her stomach clench and her temper smart. “Yeah, yeah. My condition is that I get to take the real you out.”_

_Of all the things she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and it took her by surprise. “What?”_

_“I want to take the real you out,” he said, speaking slowly, as if she was a simple child. It did nothing to help her temper._

_“What the hell is that supposed to mean? This **is** the real me.”_

_“But it’s not, is it? It’s a part of you. It’s the superhero part. Who I think is great, by the way. But I want to get to know the real you. I want to know who you are when you’re not wearing the costume.”_

_“Are you serious?”_

_“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”_

_She stared at him. Of all the Supers she’d entertained or rejected, not one of them had expressed an interest in Helen Truax. Which had suited her fine, really, because having tender pillow talk or discussions about feelings hadn’t really been on her radar._

_But Mr. Incredible was gazing at her with an intensity she’d never experienced before, and it unsettled her in a way she wasn’t accustomed to. Tucking hair self-consciously behind her ear, she looked away from him._

_“I don’t really do that kind of dating,” she said._

_“But aren’t you even a little bit curious about what it’s like to have someone interested in you? I want to hear about the things that make you tick in your civilian life, not just your superhero exploits.”_

_Someone interested in Helen Truax. Someone who was interested in her beyond her flexibility in the bedroom or which idiotic villains she’d put away._

_Yeah, the idea was kind of nice._

_Scary, too. There was a reason she didn’t date people. Dating people meant making herself vulnerable, of giving people power over her. It was how she’d been with Xerek. He’d known her better than anyone else ever had, and that had scared her a little by the end, that he knew so many things that could be used against her, his charm and charisma souring into something cunning and snake-like. She’d fought back, of course, but it had rattled her nonetheless. She had no idea where he was now, and she had had no intentions of ever letting anyone have power over her again. Love was weakness, and one she couldn’t afford to have._

_“I don’t know if I want any of that,” she said. It was the most honest she could be without hurting his feelings or making herself vulnerable._

_“You’ve always struck me as the kind of person to take risks. It’s the risks that make things exciting.”_

_“Yeah, well, maybe I have enough excitement in my superhero life.”_

_“I don’t believe that. There’s nothing to be scared of.”_

_“I’m **not** scared,” she snapped._

_He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. How about we strike a deal?”_

_“A deal?” she repeated._

_“Yeah. You try it once, no strings attached. If you don’t like it, we pretend that it never happened. I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone, not even to Frozone, I swear. I know you probably don’t have a whole lot of reasons to trust me, but you **can**. Nothing makes me angrier than liars.”_

_Helen mulled it over for a moment. It was a dangerous proposition. She had never let anyone know anything about her civilian identity here. She had certainly never imagined letting **Mr. Incredible** into that part of her life._

_And yet here they were._

_Russian roulette, **carpe diam**. She’d been through hell in the war, had lived her whole life on a knife’s edge, never sure which moment might be her last._

_“All right,” she said, sealing her fate. “I accept.”_

_“You do?” Bob was grinning, as if he didn’t quite believe he’d pulled it off. “That’s great! You know where the city park is? We should meet there. Tomorrow, once we’re off duty.”_

_“Fine,” she said. “But there’s one last thing I need to do before I commit one hundred percent.”_

_“Yeah? What’s that?”_

_“This,” she said, and closed the gap between them once more. Her heart was pounding in her chest, so hard that it must surely be visible to him. Or maybe not—Bob’s eyes were clamped tightly closed, and there was an expression of abject surprise on the little of his face that she could just about see._

_After that, she could keep her own eyes open no longer, and allowed them to slip closed, gave herself over to the kiss entirely, concentrating on the way his mouth felt beneath her own, how **right** he felt around her._

_It could have lasted seconds, minutes, **years**; all Helen did know was that she never wanted it to end. She had to admit it, Mr. Incredible was a good kisser. Most of the other Supers she’d dated were preoccupied with their own pleasure, greedy and selfish. Not that it couldn’t be good—some of it had been great—but this was something entirely different. She wasn’t used to this kind of tenderness, especially from someone synonymous with inhuman strength._

_At last she pulled away, running her tongue over her lips, relishing the taste of him on her mouth. She could quite happily spend the rest of the night just kissing him, but she was still Elastigirl, and she had no intention of letting him have the upper hand._

_“Okay, I think I’m sure now,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Incredible.”_

_She left him standing there, blushing, adding an extra sway to her hips as she walked away._

* * *

Helen came back to herself with a jolt when she realised that the crowd was still there, still hungry for more information, for answers to the mysteries they hadn’t known about until now.

“So, Elastigirl, where did you take Mr. Incredible on your first date?” someone calls.

“Mr. Incredible is misremembering because he asked _me _out first,” Helen says, shooting him an irritated glare; he responds with a sheepish smile. “He took me to a carnival. It was very nice, actually.”

It had been. She hadn’t wanted to go for a meal, for she’d had nightmares about awkward dates where she was stuck at a small table with someone else, forced to make small talk so painful that she wished she had the power of invisibility so she could sneak away and never return. She was a confident gal, but there had only been so much she could take.

Thankfully, Bob Parr had proven to be as charismatic as Mr. Incredible was. He was as funny as charming as his superhero counterpart, and so very handsome to boot. Somehow, he was even more attractive without the mask, uncovered completely to her. The angular jaw, the blue eyes that burned through her, the blond hair that she’d longed to run her fingers through. And he’d worn a short sleeved polo, which had caused her imagination to run riot because she was still a hot-blooded woman and those arms were the most amazing she’d ever seen, thick muscles cording and flexing every time he moved.

Thankfully, Bob had been as in-tune with her as she could have hoped for, and they had had a wonderful time. The easy flirting, the crackling sexual tension, had simmered between them all evening, and Helen had found that they had never run out of things to say. Bob had a dry wit, an easy charm that, whilst a little arrogant and infuriatingly attractive, was never suffocating. They simply bounced off one another with an ebb and flow she had never known with another person.

He’d taken the initiative for the second kiss, catching her mouth sweetly beneath his own, his touch so light that it seemed impossible that someone of his size could maintain it. Not that she was scared of that. Elastigirl could mould.

“What made going there so special for you?” someone else calls out from the crowd. Good God. Talk about the media invading every corner of life. The memories of those early days are so special to Helen. They’re shared by her and Bob and them alone; no one else will ever know about the way her heart thudded in her chest when he slid his hand into hers for the very first time. No one else will ever know how that had made her feel, because Helen Truax did not go around holding hands with anyone, regardless of how much she might fancy them.

She shrugs now, determined to keep that aspect of their lives private. “I suppose it was the normality of it all. In our line of work we spend so much of our time doing the impossible that it’s not often that we get to enjoy doing anything normal. We could just be ourselves, and I liked that.”

“And how was it?” someone shouts. “Did you find that you liked each other in civilian life as much as your superhero one?”

“Well, we did end up marrying each other fifteen years ago, so I guess that’s a pretty good indication,” says Bob sardonically. Laughter ripples around the vicinity. He scratches his head. “In all seriousness, Elastigirl was great to be around. I loved her sense of humour and how she never judged me, even when I broke something I wasn’t meaning to. I know people think it’s great to have super strength, and it is to some extent, but it’s not all rosy, either. It can be pretty terrifying, knowing that you might accidentally break something or hurt someone you love if you don’t watch what you’re doing.”

“And I suppose it’s difficult to break Elastigirl,” someone else shouts from the crowd, and more nervous laughter ripples around, as people evidently begin to realise just how accurate it is. It’s true. It took Bob a long time to really believe that he wouldn’t hurt her. He’d kissed her as if she was glass, had held her hand with the delicacy of porcelain. When she’d expressed her interest in taking things further, he’d been reluctant and hesitant, had tried as many different tactics as possible to delay what she’d wanted. It had been frustrating on many levels—she was not used to being made to wait when there was something that she wanted, and as a general rule the people that she’d slept with had been just as eager as she was. On some level it had been nice that Bob had not simply wanted her for her body, as others had done, but it didn’t make it any less maddening when he pulled away from her just as things were getting a little heated. It had made her doubt herself in _other _ways, made her question if he was even that interested in her at all. She’d never done steady relationships before; it was a foreign concept. Her love life mirrored her real one. Voracious until the death, each moment an exhilarating song which might be her last, as could any in her line of hero work. The exquisite way she had burned for him had only been made worse by his denial of her desires. She’d tried to be understanding, but Elastigirl had never been blessed with much patience, and it had only grown more difficult by the day.

“There is that,” Bob acknowledges now, casting her another sideways glance. It’s as much as he will say, Helen knows that and is grateful for it. That experience is for the two of them alone. No one else will ever be privy to the intimacy between them, to the conversations they’d had on the subject, to the fears and doubts that each one had had. Bob had feared hurting her above everything else. He was so used to his super strength being a liability in his civilian life that it had never occurred to him that there might be someone out there who would be perfect for him in that way. Bit by bit, she had shown him that she could take his strength, that instead of breaking she could mould into anything he needed her to be. If he used too much pressure in a fit of excitement? No problem. She could flatten herself out and reduce the intensity of it. He could not crush her bones or crack her ribs. More than that, he did not have to hold himself back with her. He did not have to worry that any intimacy would have—God forbid—terrible consequences.

They were perfect for each other in that respect. It had just taken him a little time to reach that conclusion.

* * *

_In a fit of irritation, she’d asked him where he’d seen this going. In her experience, things did not stay static. They moved, ebbed, flowed, changed. That had always been for the worse, but at least it had kept going. With Bob, things were different. Bored was not a word she would associate with herself when it came to her relationship with him. It was exciting, refreshing._

_Which inevitably led her to wanting more._

_“I thought things were going good?” he asked._

_“That’s a fine way of avoiding the question,” she snapped, the old worries resurfacing. “I don’t care if you’re not interested in me, Incredible.” A flat out lie. “But I like to be kept in the picture about things, so if you’re not feeling it then I’d rather know now.”_

_“How can you think I’m not feeling it?” he asked incredulously. “I thought it was pretty obvious that I was.”_

_She shrugged. On some level, that was right. The way he kissed her—with such passion, with such desire—was certainly indicative of someone who was attracted to her. At the same time, she wasn’t Bob. She didn’t know his innermost secrets. For all she knew, he could be closing his eyes and pretending that she was someone else. Just because he was kissing her, it didn’t mean he was kissing **her**._

_“Yeah, I guess,” she acquiesced, choosing not to voice the other sly niggles in her head._

_“So what’s wrong?” he demanded. “Why would you even ask that? I **like** you, Helen.”_

_“So why don’t you want to spend time with me?” she blurted, the words like poison on her lips._

_“What the hell are you talking about? We **do** spend time together! We go out! We have fun! What more do you want from me?”_

_“I want you to **want** me!” she said. All of her doubts were bubbling to the surface now, as unstoppable as the tide._

_He blinked at her. “Are you serious? You think I don’t want you?”_

_“Well, what other explanation is there?” she said. She could feel the heat rising to her face, but there was no turning back now. Every ugly thing was out there, to be dissected with a scalpel. If nothing else, she had to face it with her head held high, because she was Elastigirl, and Elastigirl feared nothing._

_At least not on the outside._

_“I can’t believe you’re saying that,” he muttered. “I really can’t believe you think so little of me.”_

_She stabbed her finger into his chest. “Don’t turn this around on me. It’s got nothing to do with what I think of you. I **like** you, Bob. Jeez, do you know how many other Supers I let into my personal life? None.”_

_“I get that,” he said. “I **do**. And I’m bloody honoured that you let me into that part of your life, Helen. I know this isn’t what you usually do. But I thought you knew me better than that. I wouldn’t waste my time or yours if I didn’t think you were one hell of a woman.”_

_She bristled at his implication, even though deep down she knew she deserved it. “Then why don’t you show me?” It was easier to pin the blame on him than face up to her own shortfalls._

_Bob’s brow crinkled. “What are you talking about? I **do** show you! I kiss you, don’t I? We spend most of our spare time together, don’t we? We wouldn’t be together nearly as much if I wasn’t interested. What more can I possibly do to show you that I like you?”_

_“Let me think about that for a minute,” she said in scathing mock-thoughtfulness, turning her eyes to the heavens. “I dunno...maybe not flinch away from me whenever I show an interest in getting closer to you?”_

_Bob blanched. She knew she’d got him cornered, that he knew exactly what she was talking about. Vindication, like sweet venom, pumped through her veins. There it was, out in the open for them both to see, the ugly creation that no one wanted to take ownership of._

_“I don’t do that,” he said feebly._

_Helen snorted, bitter, kicking at the gravel with the toe of her boot. “Don’t insult us both by denying it, Bob. Neither of us are fools. And I hate it when people lie to me. So don’t do it, okay?”_

_“Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Maybe I do want to take things slow. That’s not a crime! Not every relationship has to be about sex straight away, you know!”_

_Helen’s mouth tumbled open. The words were like a stake straight through the heart, all the more painful because **Bob** of all people had been the one to hurl the accusation._

_“Is that what you think I do?” she shouted. Fight or flight again._

_Bob clamped his mouth closed, but his silence was more telling than any words could be._

_“Well, thank you for that,” she said, her voice filled with icy control. “At least I know what you really think. Some truth at last.”_

_“You want some truth?” Bob said, his voice shaking with barely-concealed anger. “I’ll give you some truth, Helen. The truth is that I don’t give a damn about what you might or might not have done with anyone else. Your past is irrelevant. The truth is that I’m terrified of trying to take things further in case I hurt you. The truth is that you drive me absolutely insane but I love you. The truth is that I’d rather things stay as they are than take a chance and ruin things for good. The truth is—”_

_“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said, cutting him off short. “Can we back up a bit?”_

_He blinked at her. “Huh?”_

_She resisted the urge to roll her eyes; Bob clearly had a thing for letting his mouth run away before his brain had caught up._

_But beyond that it was...good. She could not deny that her stomach had swooped as if she had just performed a roll in a fighter jet; her heart felt as if it had expanded twice in size. It was a fact she could barely get her head around._

_Bob had just told her that he loved her._

_ It wasn’t the first time she’d ever heard it. But it was the first time she’d ever heard it without underlying threat._

_Xerek had waited until the moment she had broken free of him to let her hear those three words. He’d probably meant them, that was the worst thing of all, but instead of them being something pure and treasured, they had been turned into a weapon of mass destruction. They had been made to maim and hurt, to bring her back. To control._

_Helen had seen too many of his horrors to fall for that, but it had made her resent those words nevertheless. She had closed her own heart off, determined that she would never be snared like that again. It was why she never allowed herself to stay with the same person for any length of time. She did not want to find herself in a situation where she could get hurt in that way ever again. She was going to break the hearts._

_And yet here she was._

_For as much as she didn’t want to acknowledge that she was getting into deep waters, there was only so long she could lie to the world and to herself._

_What she and Bob were doing was more than sharing a bed. She’d lain there with him for the sheer pleasure of doing it. No sex, just intimacy. His strong, lean frame curled around hers like a protective blanket, his warmth seeping into every inch of her skin. **Facing** him on the pillow, eyes and fingers mapping his features. A butterfly’s touch on him, really, barely there, enough to convince her that he was real, not enough to convince her that she was in danger. She’d **never** done that with any other Super she’d slept with, but she’d convinced herself that it was okay. It wasn’t as if he knew her deepest, darkest secrets. She’d let him in more than she’d let anyone else. He knew her as Helen and not just Elastigirl. But he didn’t know **everything** about Helen Truax. Yeah, she’d broken her own rule of never letting any Super into her civilian life, but she’d always thought that she could handle it._

_But here they were. On the edge of something that she’d told herself she never wanted again._

_On the edge of something that she **did** want, no matter what she told herself._

_Because as much as she told herself that she was fine, that there was no way that she’d catch feelings that she had no intention of catching, she’d failed spectacularly. She found herself looking forward to seeing Bob in a way she never had with any other Super she’d dated. She found her heart fluttering whenever he sent that easy grin her way. She found herself daydreaming about their soft kisses when there was a lull in crime of an evening. She found herself **hoping** that she might run into him on her rounds so that they could exchange flirty jibes. She found herself looking forward to meeting him as Helen Truax and not just as Elastigirl._

_She found herself falling for him, too._

_She couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment when it had happened. It hadn’t hit her like a bolt of lightning, completely out of the blue, like it did in the movies. Instead it had crept up on her gradually, bit by bit, until the soft glow she felt in her heart whenever she looked at him could no longer be ignored._

_It was part of the reason why she had wanted to take things to the next level. She liked sex on its own, there was no denying that. But a part of her that she wasn’t willing to acknowledge wanted to take the next step with Bob because she **wanted** the fabled intimacy that came with that, the soft kisses and the murmured reassurances and the weight of his presence all around her. She wanted something that she had never wanted before._

_And, if she wanted it, she could have all of that right now._

_Helen wet her lips, her mouth suddenly like sandpaper. Did she dare remind him of what he’d said? Did she dare take that leap?_

_Her heart leapt in before her head could rationalise._

_“You said you loved me,” she whispered._

_The colour steadily rose in Bob’s face; it was clear that, yes, he had no idea of what he’d just let slip. One massive hand rose to the back of his head and ruffled the short blond hair there. Usually one so ready with some stupid, snappy comeback, it seemed he had no reply to that._

_Right here, right now, she had all of the power that was usually so evenly dispensed between the two of them when it came to their verbal sparring._

_“You said you loved me,” she repeated._

_“Turn of phrase,” he blustered, the pink spilling into his neck. “It’s easier than saying, ‘I really like you’ all of the time.”_

_“Not if you don’t mean it,” she pointed out. If there was one thing she had learned about Bob Parr in the time she had known him, it was this: whether it was his irritating belief that no one could beat Mr. Incredible, or his unfathomable love of mayonnaise, he was so gallingly sincere about **everything**. He never said a thing he didn’t mean._

_He huffed, folding his arms across his massive chest, a sure sign that he was going on a defensive. “Look, it’s no big deal.”_

_“It **is** a big deal.”_

_“It was a slip up, nothing more. It doesn’t mean that anything has to change.”_

_“And what makes you think it will?” she challenged._

_His silence spoke volumes._

_“You think because I’ve never stayed in any other relationship for very long that I have a commitment problem?”_

_“No!” he said. “Look, none of that is any of my business. I don’t care. All that matters is **us**, not whoever else you might have been seeing in the past. What matters is that you know that I don’t expect anything to change.”_

_“But things have already changed, don’t you see?” This was it. Helen took a deep breath. In all of her life she had never been as frightened as she was in that moment. Not fielding the planes in the war, never knowing if she’d make it out of enemy airspace before being blown to pieces. Not of Xerek in that final confrontation, when he had peeled off the charismatic mask to reveal the madness behind._

_But there was one thing about fear: Helen Truax would never let it win. She thrived on it, defied it, **beat** it._

_And her courage took her over the edge._

_“Things have changed because I’ve fallen in love with you too, you idiot.”_

_Bob blinked at her a couple of times, slow on the uptake as ever when it came to reading personal feelings. “What?”_

_Helen huffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You’re not deaf. I don’t need to repeat it, hotshot.”_

_A slow grin spread across his face, lightening his whole features with the boyish charm she had loathed and then fallen for in the time they had known each other. “No, I definitely don’t think I heard that right. You’re gonna have to repeat yourself.”_

_Helen clenched her jaw, but there was no point in holding out. He would only keep picking at her, and if she continued to bite her tongue it would make her an even bigger loser. “I love you, Bob.”_

_“That’s a relief,” he confessed. “I love you too.”_

_She gave him a smirk. “Understandable, really.”_

_“And you complain that I have an ego,” he muttered, but he crossed the space between them and swept her up into his arms, **literally** up into the air so that she dangled several inches above the ground, with all the enthusiasm a puppy might possess. It was endearing in a way she hadn’t imagined, really, and she wrapped her arms around him in turn and squeezed him tight. He probably didn’t even feel the pressure, but it didn’t stop him squeezing her tighter in response. If she was a different woman, it would have hurt._

_But she wasn’t a different woman. She was Helen Truax, and she was in love with Bob Parr._

_It was safe to say that once the elephant in the room had been released to roam free, communication between the two of them became easier. They did not need to hide. They could be open about everything. Open about fears and expectations. Allay them for each other._

_It paved the way to them finally, **finally** falling into bed together. They never looked back from that point._

* * *

Helen shakes herself out of her reverie now, shooting her husband a guilty grin. Those kinds of thoughts are hardly appropriate for a warm summer’s lunchtime, when they are surrounded on all sides by the press. Bob returns the grin, obviously sensing exactly where her mind has gone. She wonders what he’d said to the press since she allowed her mind to float away, and vows that she’s going to pay more attention from now on. She can’t have him saying anything embarrassing—and untrue.

“And what about your independence?” shouts a woman from the middle of the crowd. “In interviews you always made it very clear that you didn’t need anyone.”

Helen shrugs, casting a wry smile in her husband’s direction. “And that’s still true. I don’t _need _someone to share my life with.”

A sharp intake of breath from the audience, a flash of horror across Bob’s countenance, betrayal on Violet and Dash’s faces. It’s time to assuage that swiftly.

“I don’t think anyone _needs _someone to share their life with. Everyone here is free to pursue the life they want without someone else there. The difference is that we’re not necessarily _made _to go it alone. And that’s where the difference comes in. We have a choice. We can choose to pursue our dreams and goals alone—there’s nothing wrong with that. But we can also choose to share our lives with someone. And that’s the key. I’ve never _needed _Mr. Incredible. I’ve always _wanted _him. And so that was the choice I made. I decided that my independence was hollow compared to not having him.” She shoots him a wry, sideways glance that will go over everyone else’s heads. “Besides, we can still be married and retain our independence.” She’ll never forget that Bob managed to live a whole other life for two months right under her nose. “One doesn’t take away from the other.”

At the end of her speech, the crowd breaks into rapturous applause, and she gives Bob another little sideways glance. He’s gone pink behind the mask, and the look on his face says more than words ever could. Her heart swells at the sight of it. Whatever they’ve been through in the last fifteen years, however much they’ve argued and thrown their frustrations at each other, it’s not altered the way they feel about each other. Put simply, she loves Bob, and she can’t imagine living her life with anyone else.

“And just expanding on that a little,” someone else calls out from the crowd, “how does that tie in with your sense of identity?”

Helen furrows her brows. “My sense of identity?”

“Yes,” the reporter rushes to elaborate, “during the glory days you were always known as your own brand, Elastigirl. These days I’ve heard you referred to as ‘Mrs. Incredible’ at times. Does it bother you at all that your sense of self has been tied to Mr. Incredible’s?”

Huh. That’s an interesting question. She mulls it round in her head for a moment. “I suppose it’s a little strange,” she concedes. “But I think the two identities can coexist. I’ll always be Elastigirl, and I think the majority of people will always think of me that way.” Bob has never tried to attach her to his brand, has _always _called her Elastigirl in front of others. To Helen, that’s the most precious thing of all, that Bob still sees her as her own person, that he still respects her as such. She glances at him now, the corner of her mouth turning up involuntarily. “At the end of the day, I was happy to take my husband’s surname. I wouldn’t’ve married him otherwise. So I’m not going to complain if some people wanna call me Mrs. Incredible.”

More cheers and claps.

“But what about your identity getting swallowed up by ‘The Incredibles’?’” persists a middle-aged man, his voice reedy and niggling.

Helen frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You were infamous in your vocal disinterest in heading up the touted new hero team, Heroes Incorporated,” he responds, sounding like he’s regurgitating an encyclopaedia entry. “How do you feel about fighting under the moniker of The Incredibles?”

“Following on from that,” another guy pipes up before Helen can open her mouth to respond, “when you were advocating superhero rights, you were wearing an updated version of your classic Elastigirl suit. How do you feel about losing your individuality in your appearance now that you’re fighting alongside Mr. Incredible?”

“Well, I’m gonna stop you right there,” she says, readjusting her microphone so that her voice is amplified. She knows these kinds of men all too well, desperate to cause friction and strife. They’re the kind of men who play women off against each other and stand back to enjoy the results. Well, that’s not gonna happen here. She loves her family, and there’s no drama to be found in that. “For starters, that’s two completely different scenarios.”

“How so?” questions the first reporter.

“The NSA wanted me to lead a team of other Supers,” she says. To this day she has no idea who was being touted for it, but she had had no desire to become embroiled in bitchiness with other female Aupers, or constantly undermined by the men. She’s not sure that she and Bob could have survived something like that. He’s never been any good at taking orders, and even if they’d been dating, she doubts he would have enjoyed constantly deferring to her. They’d worked so well _because _they’d both wanted to do their own thing. Neither had suppressed the other, and it had meant that they could retain the independence they’d both loved as well as spending their spare time together.

There’s that, or working in such close quarters might have inevitably ended in one destination during those early days, leading to Heroes Incorporated tanking immediately with two of their leading stars unable to keep their hands off one another. She doubts the NSA would have been happy about _that_, either. The Thrilling Three and Phantasmics had already proven to be a disaster, and they wouldn’t have wanted a third on their hands. She’s quite sure that that was what it would have been destined to be, regardless of who participated.

“Working with other Supers is always difficult,” she continues now. “We all have our individual motivations and ideas on how things should be done. Back then, I was young and only interested in doing things _my _way. I didn’t want to be stifled by anyone else. It wouldn’t have worked because none of us would have been able to accept someone else’s decision.”

“And what makes this different?” someone prompts.

Helen glances across at Bob. “Everything. These aren’t just other Supers trying to carve a name for themselves. These people are my family, and I love them more than anything else in the world. That makes the whole difference.”

There are a few _awww_s from the crowd of gathered women. Helen ignores them, keeping her entire focus on her husband, who is staring at her with an unwavering gaze. His own are swimming with so much emotion, belying the outwardly arrogant grin on his face. She’s not the kind of woman to get overly sentimental, especially not in front of anyone but Bob, but she speaks from the heart when she does, and every word she’s spoken is true. Her family have changed her life for the better, and she will never let go of them.

“Are there any other questions?” Winston calls from his podium. More hands shoot up, more microphones waved, more shouts. Helen sweeps her gaze over all of them. Wow. She never expected to be so popular again.

But before the entrepreneur can single somebody out, Bob grabs hold of the base of his microphone; it crunches threateningly, almost coming away from its podium. A loud screeching perforates the air. Several people clamp their hands over their ears.

“Does anyone have any questions about the fight today?” he says, the exasperation in his voice palpable.

Every hand in the crowd falters, then lowers. Silence blankets the crowd for the first time all morning. Helen glances around, bemusement blossoming inside her, warring with the desire to laugh at the crestfallen look on Bob’s face. He’s not used to his heroics being pushed to the side for something so mundane.

“None?” he pleads.

A few people shuffle, but no one says a word.

Winston clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh...I guess that’s it then, folks! If no one has any questions about today then we really should let the Incredibles get going!”

This does prompt a response—of yelling and booing, of pleading to hear more about how Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl came to be. Seemingly reluctant himself to let them leave, Winston nevertheless herds them offstage. Bob drags himself after him, shoulders hunched.

They meet the kids at the bottom of the steps, Vi looking equal parts amused and curious, Dash purely revolted. Jack-Jack claps his hands together and gurgles, reaching out for her. Helen takes him at once, pressing a kiss to his pudgy cheek.

“That was so _lame_,” Dash complains, folding his arms. “Why didn’t anyone wanna know about the cool action?”

“Beats me,” Bob sighs. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He sets off with Dash in tow. Smiling, Helen follows him with Violet. The years may have passed, but Bob’s feelings on heroism are some things which will never change.

And she loves him anyway.

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re still pouting,” Helen teases hours later.

The kids have long since been put to bed, and the house is blissfully silent. No doubt the hectic day of hero work has worn all three of them out. She knows it’s difficult for Violet and Dash, sometimes, juggling school and hero activities, but it’s the compromise that she’s forced them to stick to. She won’t have their grades suffering for the sake of taking part in apprehending villains, and it’s the one thing that encourages Dash to buckle down and work hard because he _wants _to be involved in saving the city wherever he can, and he knows that they will restrict that if he doesn’t keep up with school the way he’s supposed to. It’s rather comical, actually, to receive the reports from surprised teachers who have experienced a complete one-eighty turn in his attitude. He still gets into trouble sometimes, but for the most part he’s a much better student than he was. That’s something Helen can be grateful for.

Bob glances across at her now, a little scowl creasing his brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Helen stretches across to smooth her thumb over the lines engrained between his eyes. “Don’t you? You’ve been frowning like that since we got home from the news conference.”

He’s silent for a moment, arms folded across his chest, before he cracks and confesses, “I just don’t get it, that’s all.”

“Get what?”

“Get their obsession with us! It’s _strange_!”

“Not really,” Helen shrugs, moving away to finish her nightly ablutions. She glances at her husband through the mirror. “People are like that all the time, aren’t they, with movie stars and singers. Elizabeth Taylor is always in the newspapers.”

“That’s different,” says Bob crossly. “They’re there to entertain. _We’re _not.”

“I don’t think they’d see it that way,” Helen says, swinging round in her seat. “They’re people just as much as we are. I doubt they like seeing themselves plastered across every newspaper cover, either.”

“Maybe so, but it’s completely different and you can’t deny it. We’re out there saving people’s lives and homes! We’re not just playing a role. It’s _real _to us. I just wish we’d got more credit for what we did today, that’s all. They were quick to judge us when the Underminer escaped, but now that he’s been caught they don’t seem to care at all. They’re more interested in our first date!”

Helen finishes at her vanity, rising to her feet and casting him a smirk. “_I’m _more interested in our first date than I am in the Underminer. I should feel insulted that you’re not.”

“Don’t twist it like that,” he protests. “You know I love the memories we have of that time. But that’s all in the past. What we’re doing now should be important.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, aren’t you?” she teases, then scolds herself. She’d meant it in jest, but even now it’s a topic that’s still quite sensitive for the both of them. She’s not sure that she’ll ever be able to fully forgive him for the way that he’d pushed the importance of their family life aside for his dwelling on the glory days. On his own part, she knows that Bob is riddled with guilt for being so blind, for being such a bad husband and father, and that he’s forever trying to atone for the mistakes that he’d made.

She crosses the room to his side, clambering into bed beside him and leaning against the headboard.

“Was this afternoon really so bad?” she asks, tilting her head so she can study his profile.

Bob sighs, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. “No, of course not...”

“The world’s changing,” Helen reasons. “People aren’t as awed by the fantastic as they once were.” After all, the world managed without the fantastic for fifteen years. “I kinda liked it. It made a nice change.”

“What did?”

“Being reminded that we’re still seen as people as well as superheroes.” She nudges her shoulder against his side. “Because we are, Bob. We still have hopes and dreams of our own. We still have our family.”

His eyes soften as he glances at her, conceding defeat and lifting his arm so she can snuggle against his side. She wraps her arms around him in turn, giving him a squeeze.

“Okay, I can see your point,” he concedes. “It was nice that people took an interest in us.”

“I can sense another but...”

The pout is back, adorable as it is exasperating. “But they didn’t seem too interested in hearing my side of the story!”

And there it is. Bob has always been a sucker for the limelight, no matter what he says, and he was clearly a bit miffed that he was overlooked in favour of the romanticism of the past. Silly man. Helen bites her lip to stifle a laugh. Some things will never change.

“Honey, you know why you were overlooked,” she soothes. “You’re a man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, wounded.

She shrugs. “You know how we women are seen. We love romance and being swept off our feet, even the superheroes.”

“I could have answered questions about us if I’d been given the chance!”

Only Bob would get offended at not being asked about his marriage. Helen laughs, shaking her head. “Hey, I would’ve swapped positions with you if I could.”

“You seemed to enjoy embarrassing me, though,” he mutters. “All that stuff about wanting me not needing me and being happy to be Mrs. Incredible?”

“Your eyes didn’t lie, Bob. You loved that. Besides, I can’t help it if I just want to talk about my big, strong husband,” she coos, batting her eyelashes in his direction. “I’m just a female superhero, after all, and we’re not equipped to talk about anything more interesting than our love lives.”

“I know you’re just trying to irritate me,” says Bob, his tone would-be-dignified. “I won’t stoop to your level.”

“Because you’re so much more poised than I am,” she says, laughing as he aims a half-hearted scowl in her direction. “You’re so big and strong and brave, and I’m just a simple woman—"

Lithe as she is, she’s not fast enough to dodge the pillow that he aims at her face.

Which begins the pillow fight to end all pillow fights.

And ends with a very different kind of fight for dominance.

Which, Helen decides as she sprawls across her husband’s chest in a very, _very _satisfied afterglow, is the most suitable way to end what has been one of the strangest days in her career.

* * *

It only gets more bizarre from there.

The next day, wherever they look, newspapers are emblazoned with the details of the conference they had yesterday, with varying degrees of corny headlines about an _Incredible Love _or _A Super Family_. There are various angles of the picture taken yesterday, with Helen’s arm stretched around Bob’s shoulder, his on her waist as he pulls her closer to his side, and there are old archive pictures of them from the glory days; some ‘expert on body language’ has crawled out of the woodwork claiming that she’d known all along that they were together because of how they’d interacted with each other in the old days. Yet another person claims to have seen them kissing in the Incredibile. Which, yeah, they’d done a hell of a lot of back in the day, but it’s still no more than fantasy because Helen’s pretty sure that gossip like that would have spread like wildfire, and the whole world would have known that they were dating.

Dash wrinkles his nose at the sappy headlines and the articles which are just flowery biopics of their life in the interim fifteen years since they were forced underground. There are some steep statements which make her smile, and Bob grumbles about how ridiculous the whole thing is.

She catches him tucking it into his box of sentimental things, and it makes her smile wider.

With the surge of support for superheroes, other merchandise begins to form. There are action heroes, which are surreal to see when she’s out with her family, a row of Elastigirl dolls staring back at her. Bob doesn’t like his—he’s vain enough to think that his isn’t muscly enough, which is true, but Helen’s very happy to be the only woman these days who has that intimate knowledge of him. They look great in his super suit, but nothing compares to what they look like bared. Particularly since the working out, she’s found herself completely distracted from her mundane tasks by his huge, broad frame, those flexing muscles. She’s more glad than she can say that they’re no longer living in a motel, because it had been exceedingly difficult to find any time alone in those three months.

The strangest thing of all is the new animated TV series that is greenlit for production. It’s billed as the first superhero programme to give fair treatment to both past and present Supers, as well as being fun and entertaining for the kids. Bob and Lucius are over the moon at the prospect—Helen remembers fuzzy details about another animated show that never hit the air, which Lucius had despised with a passion and, though he had vehemently denied it, Bob had only wanted to see because it had him centre stage. There had been talk about a random bunny joining Mr. Incredible and Frozone on their adventures, and although Helen had never seen this fabled monstrosity, it had never stopped her making fun of them for it. Particularly Bob. God, it had really pushed his buttons, and when she’d been in that heady place between deep attraction and vehement denial, it had been an exquisite sensation to flirt and jibe and spar with him.

(She’d always had to tread carefully around Lucius, who was sore about every single aspect of that—“Worse than _everything_, it’s made me look like Incredible’s sidekick! I am _not _a sidekick!”—and had been known to sulk).

But this one had sounded so much more promising. Fair treatment for all Supers. A chance for the younger generation who had not been around to get to know the heroes who had protected their parents. A chance for them to fall in love with the new generation of Supers who had taken up the mantle of their fallen comrades.

Helen has to admit, watching cartoon versions of all her old colleagues brings a hard lump to her throat. Innocent and noble as it is, it’s hard for her to watch them going around saving the day when she knows that each one meets a grisly demise. It must be even harder for Bob, who discovered Gazerbeam’s remains, who sat there as the name of each friend flashed across Syndrome’s computer screen, announcing in cold, analytical terms that they existed no more. Whenever episodes about the Thrilling Three, or Gamma Jack, or Stormicide aired, Helen would slip her hand into Bob’s and squeeze it as if her very life depended on it, taking comfort from his tight grip in return. Oblivious, Vi, Dash, and little Jack-Jack sat mesmerised at their feet, lapping all of the antics up. Helen prays that they never know such horrors in their own lives.

The first episode dedicated to Frozone is a fun one. They all gather at the Best’s for it, with food and drink to appease the kids, and Lucius revels in the awed attention they give him as they clamour to know the truth behind the episode. Even Honey’s dry sniping at the back of him doesn’t dampen his mood, and Helen is pleased to see him getting the attention he deserves. She will never forget that he put the safety of her kids above his own, and without his presence on the _Everjust_ the casualty tally was sure to have been high. He’d saved so many lives that day.

Bob, of course, is filled with eager anticipation for his own, and when it finally arrives, it seems to exceed his expectations. It _is _a pretty accurate representation of Mr. Incredible, and she relishes the kids’ excitement at having a dad so synonymous with good deeds. Her own episode is decent too. She doesn’t care about it in the same way that Bob does, but it’s nice to see the creators being as faithful to the glory days as they can be.

Of course, she isn’t too thrilled to see the accurate documentations of her status as a heartbreaker. It’s not the focus—after all, it’s still a kid’s cartoon—but they’ve thrown in the whole disastrous affair with Gamma Jack, which had certainly brought raised eyebrows from Violet and looks of disgust from Dash.

Not only that, it’s mildly uncomfortable watching a cartoon version of her past self having relationships with other people when she’s sitting there with her husband. It’s not as if Bob hadn’t known about any of this, and it’s not like it ever bothered him, but that doesn’t make her cringe any less. Thank God not all of her brief flings reached the public eye, or the press would have a field day.

But if Helen had thought her individual episodes could be embarrassing, it was nothing compared to the episodes where Elastigirl and Mr. Incredible began meeting—and consequently falling for—each other.

The initial dynamics are good. It was well documented that they had not got off on the right footing, and they had publicly butted heads with each other a time or two.

So far so good.

She has a good laugh at Bob’s expense when the onscreen Mr. Incredible starts to develop feelings for her TV counterpart.

“I don’t believe this!” Bob exclaims one evening as they’re all gathered around together, Helen curled into his side with her head resting against his broad chest. “This _never _happened!”

Onscreen, Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl are subtly flirting. Nothing too risqué, and nothing like the flirting that they’d really done in those days, but Helen silently thinks that the voice actors are doing a good job of capturing the chemistry between the two of them. There’s nothing less than innocent about it, but the attraction is clear.

Bob’s concertation is coming from the fact that, onscreen, his super alter ego has gone the colour of tomato juice as Elastigirl brushes her hand over his chest.

Dash falls about, pretending to be sick. “Dad, that’s so lame! I can’t believe you got like that over a girl!”

“Excuse me,” Helen says, stretching her arm to pinch her son’s nose, “that’s me you’re talking about. Show some respect.”

Lucius chuckles. “Oh, Bob had it _bad _for your mom. He tried to play it cool, but he was hopeless at it. Showed off and flexed his muscles, trying to impress her...”

“It was _nothing _like that,” Bob protests.

“It was exactly like that,” says Helen, shooting him a smirk.

“Hey, there’s no need to get too cocky,” says Lucius. “You were as bad as him.”

“I was _not_!”

He holds his hands up. “Let me tell you, your flirting was something else...”

Dash presses his hands over his ears and flashes from the room.

* * *

Bit by bit, Helen begins to share Bob’s indignation with the TV show.

She _never _giggled like a silly little girl over Bob’s stupid jokes.

She _never _fluttered her eyelashes at him like that when he walked by.

She _never _simpered or gave him puppy-dog eyes.

She _never _got jealous when she saw him flocked by other female supers.

There was poetic licence and there was stretching the truth.

“Denial doesn’t become you,” was all Lucius would ever say on the matter, chuckling at their expense, and Bob and Helen scowled at him.

Maybe Bob had had a point about them not being there for entertainment purposes after all.


End file.
